Descriptions of Mayhem
by Beckles909
Summary: London is undergoing madness, and the one person who can save it is stuck in his mind, leaving John Watson to solve things on his own.
1. Chapter 1

Ash is falling from the sky like snow. Fires burn everything solid into heaps of rubble. The Thames is a bubbling fiercely, billows from its surface. Some people can be seen jumping into it; they see boiling alive a far better fate that the alternative. The alternative… _oh Sherlock, where are you? _

My name is John Watson, and I can't fully process what is happening here. People are screaming that it's the end of the world… but there's always someone saying that, isn't there? But this time, I'm afraid that they might be right.

It was just a typical Sunday afternoon. Sherlock and I were in the sitting room having tea and sticking thumb tacks into the wall to track a killer for a case. Nothing was out of the ordinary. We worked mainly in silence, until I'd do something the wrong way, and then he'd call me an idiot and do it over. I'd just smile at him, and he'd try not to smile back. People ask me all of the time, why I put up with being so mistreated by him all of the time. What they don't understand is that when these words come from Sherlock, they're terms of endearment. It's the only way he knows how to show his affection. The truth of the matter is: he'd be completely lost without me… and I would be the same without him.

Our easy-going day was shot straight to hell when a deafening boom shook the streets of London. Both of us crashed to the floor with our ears ringing. Quickly, I grabbed at Sherlock to check if he was alright. To my frantic dismay, he was sprawled next to me with eyes closed. "Sherlock!" I shouted, taking his face in my hands. "Sherlock, wake up!"

Thankfully, his eyes snapped open straight away, but my relief was soon diminished as I saw the look on his face. Worry and anger were prominent in every impossible curve of his face. His perfect, cupid's bow lips turned down into a nasty grimace, and his intense, grey eyes burned with fury. Pulling himself from my grasp, he dashed to the window and looked out.

I followed him and caught my breath in my throat as I saw the destruction of my world. The sky was grey, blanketed my swirling clouds that were spitting out football-sized fireballs everywhere across the city. In the streets, people were screaming frantically and running for their very lives… what else do you do at a time like this? I drew my attention from the window and back to Sherlock, but he was in his own little world: his mind palace.

His arms waved away invisible flies, and his legs walked up imaginary steps; all the while his eyes were screwed tightly shut as he mumbled incoherent words under his breath. I did my best to keep calm, sucking deep but quavering breaths into my lungs. Even though he was in the same room as me, I felt so alone. Hell was pouring down outside, and Sherlock had left me in reality to dive deep inside his mind. I wanted to shake him, hit him even, do anything that would snap him out of this and bring him back to me. This was selfish, of course; in his mind palace, he was most likely working out how to save us all, but I didn't care because the sounds of death and terror where growing louder. All of this demolition was coming closer to us, and I was certain that we needed to move.

"Come on, Sherlock; we've got to move," I told him, putting my hand on his forearm. He ignored me, not even conscious enough to shake off my touch. "Sherlock, we're going to _die_ if we don't leave right now. Come on!" Still, there was no response or recognition. "Listen to me, damnit! Get out of your bloody head, and come back to me!" Fear rising in me, I shook him by the shoulders, but he still kept on with his mutterings and calculations. Expelling a ragged breath, I shouted for Mrs. Hudson. We were going to have to carry him out… well drag him, more like. It might risk our own lives, but I would _not_ leave him. Even when he's far away from me being brilliant in his own head, it's better than not having him near me at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Down on the streets, my heart raced in even greater terror. Now we were amongst the chaos; we were there with the fire and the screaming. It all dared to swallow me up, and make me another manic victim to its tempting leashes of insanity, but I am a soldier; it is my duty to keep calm when others run away; it is my duty to keep people safe.

Mrs. Hudson and I dragged Sherlock farther down the sidewalk. We couldn't carry him much farther, he was too heavy, so I kept an eye out for an empty building. After a while of searching, I found one, so I led us inside. The whole inside was burnt and blackened, but it was quieter here; maybe the worst had already come to this part of the city. I could only hope. "Okay, you should be safe here for a while," I told them [well mainly Mrs. Hudson, for she was the only one listening]. She choked back her sobs and shook her head. Watching her slowly unravel smacked me in the heart, and my face collapsed. I pulled her into a hug, and I just held her, crying into my chest as muffled blasts of the collapse of society sounded from outside.

I gave us three minutes of comfort until I drew myself away. "Do you know how to bring Sherlock back," I asked.

"He has to come out on his own," she sniveled. "Only when he's found the answer, does he come out and save it all."

I nodded, shortly. "Right. Well, we can't wait for the great Sherlock Holmes to save the day, this time. We don't have until the end of the programme to have him bursting through and dazzle us with is powers of wit." With each word, I felt my anger building. I _was_ angry with him. I don't care how wonderful he is, or how superior he is to every other man out there: this is when we needed him most, and he wasn't there… he just wasn't. "Regular people make heroic gestures every day… that's just going to have to be me, this time." I stood up on quavering legs. "There's got to be an evacuation point somewhere; I'll find it and bring you two to safety." Mrs. Hudson looked up at me with wide eyes full of tears and admiration.

She pushed herself up and wrapped me in her arms. "You be careful out there, John Watson. Don't you _dare_ get yourself killed or I'll never forgive you!" I smiled sadly at her and let her kiss my cheek. Then I turned away and went back out into the mayhem.

The elements grew worse with each step that I took. Ash was catching in my throat, so coughing, I pulled my jumper up over my nose and mouth in attempts to filter it. At least the falling fireballs had ceased, so I didn't have to worry about bursting into flames. My legs moved quickly passed each other as I searched with eager eyes for any sign of military safety tactics. There was nothing practical around me, just fear and death.

Suddenly, I was brought to a halt when I heard someone call for me. I turned on the spot to see Molly Hooper hunched over on her hands and knees in the middle of the road. Hurriedly, I went to her, and attempted to help her back onto two legs.

Her skin was inhumanly pale and slick with sweat. Through blood red lips, she coughed violently before rasping out, "I was on my [coughs] to Sherlock [cough]. He was right. It's all ending. [coughs] He needs to [coughs] save us." She broke off to retch aggressively on the ground in front of us. I held her hair back for her as she spewed green sick across the pavement. Something was happening to her that I did not want to stick around to witness, but she was a friend; I couldn't just abandon her.

When she was done throwing up, I gently eased her back to sitting on the sidewalk. "He's working on it, Molly. He's doing his best." She smiled weakly and let out a loud moan, doubling in on herself. Alarmed, I put a hand on her shoulder in attempts to steady her, but she whacked me away, crying out again. This time she wrenched her head up towards the sky, giving me view to one of the most horrific scenes I had ever witnessed. The veins under her pale skin were a sickly dark blue and jutting out sickly from under her skin. Her pupils burst free from the prison of the iris, and absorbed the rest of the white of her eyes. Staring at me with those black holes of nothingness, she smiled at me sadistically and crunched her teeth down hard in her mouth. I watched them crack under the impact and chip away. She did it again and again, until blood spilled from her gums and her teeth were reduced to slivers of bloodied spikes. This was no longer the sweet mousy Molly Hooper who brought me coffee in the morgue; this was a monster.

Unable to take anymore, I ran away from her and down the road until she was out of sight. Only when I stopped did I notice that it wasn't just Molly who was suffering from this gruesome transformation, but scattered others were also hacking up green vomit and clutching their stomachs as their eyes opened up a passage into their hollowed out souls.

Fear was towing me under again, so I stumbled into the safety of an abandoned shop. I tripped over a heap of rubbish and fell to the ground. Here on the floor, hidden from everything, I allowed myself to break apart. Hyperventilating, I sobbed for my lost city in which I was all alone. Sherlock was gone. The end was around every corner, and he wasn't accompanying it. He was still back with Mrs. Hudson tossing imagined books off of shelves. For all I know, they could be dead, or worse, they could be like Molly and the others.

I shudder and try to pry that thought from behind my eyelids. Never have I felt so defeated in my whole life. Of course there are no evacuations; the whole military is probably full of toothless demons by this point. Who was I kidding when I assumed the rule of hero? I'm no hero.


	3. Chapter 3

Finally I decide to go back to Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock. There's nothing that I can do, so I might as well go back to die with the people I love. The streets are full of the toothless monsters by this point. I dare them to attack me as I walk though their hoards, face stony, but they leave me be. They just watch me with their empty eyes, hissing and twitching their limbs.

My pace is brisk as I walk back towards Baker Street. Out of my peripheral vision, I can see insane individuals diving into the frothing waters of the Thames. They want to escape the degradation of their souls. I understand what they're feeling: they don't want to lose who they are. When I was in the army, I felt the exact same way. I was a doctor, but they put a gun in my hands, telling me to shoot to kill when necessary. I had always been the one to save lives, not take them… but when you're faced with losing your own life, you change into someone you aren't… you adapt to survive.

After what seems like a lifetime, I finally reach the building I kept them in. Holding my breath and tightening my fists, I go in, expecting the worst. My heart flutters with relief when I see them exactly how I left them. Mrs. Hudson is still sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, cries shaking her shoulders, and Sherlock is still inside of his head.

I cross the room and put my arms around Mrs. Hudson. She starts, but whimpers when she sees my face and hugs me back. "Have you done it, John? Have you found help?"

Carefully, I shake my head. "I'm sorry… there's nothing else out there." She buries her head into my chest, sobbing brokenly into my jumper. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't save you."

She shakes her head and looks up at me. "You came back to me, which is all that I could have asked for. You're still a hero to me, John,"

"And do you know who else is a hero?" the voice startles us, and we look up to see Sherlock standing above us with his same arrogant smirk across his lips. "I am, and I'm going to put an end to this ridiculousness."

I jump up and look at him, utterly bewildered. "You're back?" I ask my voice low.

He nods. "And I have a plan. See, all that I have to do-" he is cut off when my first makes a harsh impact with his face. Stumbling backwards, he clutches at his cheek. He grumbles a curse under his breath. I stand, stock-still with rage coursing through my veins and my hands clenched into tight fists at my side. He turns his gaze back to me; it looks almost pleading as he starts towards me. I stay where I am as my mind races. By this point he is so close that I can feel his warm breath on my face. In the next instant, I see white as his lips press against mine. Regaining my senses, I grab his face in my hands and open my mouth to him. The fact that's he's here alive and kissing me is the only thing that my mind can process. _He came back. He's here. We're saved_.

Pulling away, Sherlock and I turned to Mrs. Hudson who had been watching us with an adoringly excited expression on her face. I blush, but my embarrassment doesn't have time to fully represent itself because Sherlock is talking. "Now, this is going to be a tricky one, but we can do it." His arm latches more firmly across my hips, and he looks at me, smiling dangerously. "Let's go save the world."


End file.
